


Versus

by deerman



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-03 20:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17884412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerman/pseuds/deerman
Summary: Salaryman Yuta's mishaps and bad luck seemed to be unending; until he gets trapped with the lavish and opulent quotidian of the second generation tycoon, Dong Si Cheng.





	1. Mise en place

Chapter 1: _Mise en Place_

Towering skyscrapers and glass planes overlooks the young Nakamoto Yuta on the busy streets of downtown Shanghai. His blue rayon dress shirt shows patches of sweat after all the running that he had to endure, traversing the stone urban walkways, avoiding all these chattering, vibrant employees. This is until he is finally in front of a gigantic, lofty building, Yuanyang Foods, popularly known as ‘the only Chinese food conglomerate that forged deals around the world, effectively turning it into a multinational behemoth’.

The blond haired employee, catching up to his breath, stared into the looming red and green duck logo of the corporation; the birds in the flat screen dancing and chirping, and seemingly mocking him. He sighs for the last time before composing himself and straightening up his tie.

_“Here we go again.”_ He renewed his resolve and marched inside.

 In this very moment, it has been 1 month, 4 days, 13 hours, 7 minutes and 30... 31... 32 seconds since he was hired to be a secretary for Yuanyang’s chairman, Qian Kun. He was immediately given a desk of his own outside, an auxiliary room adjacent the chairman and, surely the benefits of being the secretary for the chairman. All of these would have been truly a gift from the gods and thoroughly welcomed, except for the fact that he never applied for this job. A month ago, he applied for a vacant starter position in Produce Section, a job that entails a headstrong and direct approach in dealing with farmers and producers in transporting their goods. Since Yuta was never the ‘smart’ child, he decided that this all-brawns, no-brain job of dealing with transportation is an apt starting point for him. Fortunately, he got the job. Unfortunately, it’s not the job he applied for. He can still remember the moment he got the email headed “Hiring for Application #2350 Nakamoto, Yuta”. He was ecstatic because he knew that he got the job. Then, there was shock.

_“Congratulations Mr. Yuta Nakamoto, Application #2350, you’ve been hired as the chief secretary of the Chairman’s office.”_  read the letter.

_“Just how did this happen?!”_ exclaimed the then-smiling, now-frowning man.

He knew he did not apply for this but seeing the appealingly flashing “hired” in his laptop screen, he resigned to his fate. He thought that maybe this was how it is supposed to be and boy, he thought wrong.

The impeccably varnished, gleaming oak table in front of him loses its lustre with the head-to-toe amount of cheerfully coloured papers, notes, transactions lying on top of it. He is scrambling for the incessantly ringing telephone, every dial tone leaving his soul descending into a new circle of hell. Now, he is stuck in the rigorous and lunatic role of business correspondence. He has to manoeuvre his way into making the chairman’s wishes happen without offending any of the most precious clients. To put it simply, the all-brawns, no-brain Yuta Nakamoto is not made for this job. The ‘real’ man in him could not catch all through the subtleties and pleasantries the people on the phone were communicating. And this leaves the new recruit into a downward spiral of confusion.

These unhealthy working conditions crescendoed for Yuta today. While taking a well-deserved toilet break, the phone rang for one, two, three minutes, then it stopped. The unaware secretary finally found his way to his desk and pressed the button for an unreceived message. And to his surprise, a distressed voice echoed across his hollow room, making its way to his boss. Kun heard the clients’ rant on speakers and recognised that it is their major international client on exports to the South American market. He glared at Yuta and caught him like a deer in the headlights. And this affair puts Yuta into his current predicament.

“I could get you fired for this.” bellowed Kun.

“You almost jeopardised our business deal into the South American market by not taking that important call.” he added.

“But the schedule did not list any incoming call at 13.25” answered Yuta remorsefully.

Kun pinches the middle of his brows and takes a deep breath. Despite the fuss that happened 30 minutes ago, all of that was resolved by Kun’s timely phone call and after masterfully resolving the misunderstanding, the deal is still a go. However, Kun also knows that he cannot let this situation go unchecked.

“I have a proposition.” snapping back to reality and out of his thoughts, he said to Yuta.

Yuta’s eyes widened with this phrase. His head is running around with numerous _manga_ plots were the protagonist messed up and they boss makes him do ‘stuff’, unspeakable ‘stuff’. He shudders and his face reddens with the thought.

With the instinct of a seasoned businessman, Kun saw Yuta’s reddening face and immediately cleared his throat.

“I will send you to a new section inside the Research and Development Department.”

Yuta relaxed after hearing this, he was about to beg and say ‘ _I will do anything, anything just let me stay’_ but his boss saved him the embarrassment of doing so. He is just content that Kun is pretty much a nice person, a total slave driver, but a nice person nevertheless.

“You will work in this experimental section with a newly appointed section head. I hope you get along well with him.” Kun smirked as he said these words.

_‘ALERT, ALERT’_  Two spinning red lights are currently screaming inside his brain. Yuta knows that that smirk means trouble, but as a plain, boring employee trying to live his life, he needs to make money. So he musters his courage and answers.

“I’ll take it.”

A few days after that encounter, he is already preparing for his new life as a secretary for a new, unknown section head. He clears out his table and makes his way to the centre elevator. He goes inside and tries to press the button, number 21. The big carton box filled with small random trinkets from his past position is fully occupying all his fingers now. He then smashes his back into the buttons but as if the fates are playing a joke on him, all the buttons beside number 21 were pressed, except the very number that he needs. He groans from disappointment and annoyance. Thus, he decides to just wait for the next employee to board the elevator and to just ask for them to press the button for him.

_“It’s stopping on all floors anyway.”_  He internally moaned.

_30...29... 28..._ Someone entered on the 28th floor. Finally, he celebrated on the thought that he can ask someone to press on the number 21. Just as he is about to ask the man who just entered, he notices that the man is wearing a well-fitted, tailored tweed suit, and black imposing sunglasses. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he is ordering his superior or even the son of the corporation, however, he still decides to ask away.

_“What are the odds that some nouveau riche kid is going to walk into these elevators. That unimaginable thing only happens in dramas.”_  He argued.

“Excuse me, can you plea-”

“Who the hell is the idiot who pressed all these buttons?” The black sunglasses man suddenly exclaimed after seeing the elevator’s pad.

“Uhm, I don’t know.”

The man removes his sunglasses, revealing his eyes turning into small slits and his brows being caught into a knot. He harrumphs disapprovingly and presses number 21.

_“Thank god he is going to the same floor. At least, I don’t have to ask him anymore._ ”

The few short seconds of the elevator ride seem to stretch into a long litany with awkwardness permeating the atmosphere between the two man in it; one wearing a plain, lifeless, grey suit, carrying a box of trinkets; the other one, wearing an expensive suit while disdainfully looking at the elevator door. Then, at long last, the 21st floor. Yuta hurriedly walks out of the elevator, only to find that the man is going at the same direction as him. After sneaking a few more glances into the direction of the man, the man notices him.

“Hey you! Are you the secretary for the Western Imports Section?” He abruptly called out to Yuta.

“Yes.” Beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

“ _Parfait_. Now, carry my bag. I’m your new boss, Dong Sicheng.”


	2. Apéritif

“Ye- yes!” Yuta answered like an unprepared student called by his teacher.

“No need to scream.” Sicheng clicked his tongue in disapproval.

The way to very back office can only be illustrated by the fleeting, wispy footsteps of the young employee and the strong, leading strides of the young man dressed in an all-black tweed suit.

_“Just what kind of luck do I have to make this drama-like scenario into a reality? Or perhaps did I just jinxed myself?”_

Such thoughts are running around Yuta’s head. His worry only consequently worsens with each click his boss’ sole makes against the rosewood floors as he follows him with his eyes on the floor. Suddenly, the clicking heels miss their usual, steady beat; forcing Yuta to turn his eyes away from the tremendously entertaining wooden floor and to the man in front of him. The two finally stop in front of a dark mahogany door by the end of the corridor.

_“127”_  read the embossed plate sign. Sicheng traces his finger across the embossed numbers before he turns the knob. What welcomes the duo is a room filled with floor-to-ceiling carton boxes. The room can be said to be ‘nice’ and ‘luxurious’ by its eclectic, or even kitsch, combination of hardwood floors and modern, streamlined furnitures. The desk on the centre-right of the room is well-crafted, evident by the intricate steel trellises on each corner. All the chairs are primarily black frame supporting an upholstery of scarlet leather. Everything about the current space shrieks ‘class’ except for the thick dust collecting on the furnitures and, of course, the carton boxes piling up. The boss turns his head back to stare at this employee and raise his eyebrow; then, he nudges his head on to the direction of piles and piles of boxes.

“Do you want me to clean it up for you then?” Yuta clarifies.

“Yes.”

By then, Sicheng has already dusted off a chair meaninglessly placed beside the door and sat there. The slave finally understood his master’s intentions and he goes to work. Folding his white sleeves and removing his coat, he faces head-on the mountain of things cramming the whole room by carefully carrying out all the boxes to the 21st floor stockroom. And he followed all this with the subsequent cleaning and dusting off of the whole place. This mindless toil stretches on for three more hours. However, by the time that the labour is done, Yuta cannot hide his expression of satisfaction and relief from his face. For the Yuta who was stuck in the desert of the business world, this is an oasis of thoughtless, fulfilling work. He surveys across the room and checks him work, and he smiled as a result.

“What are you grinning about over there? We still need to bring in the new furnitures.”

“YES SIR!”

Yuta enthusiastically replies to the order and is back again to manual labour. All the while that Yuta was working himself off, Sicheng was sitting in the chair and was carefully observing and assessing his new secretary, while hiding his face with this month’s issue of a fashion magazine.

_“Brother is not wrong. He really does work hard.”_

He smiles in satisfaction, but he carefully hid his satisfied expression with the giant leaves of the magazine. He eventually fell into the mechanical process of checking the balances and statements presented by the Chairman. Without giving any pointers or direction to the slaving worker, time passes by quietly until he saw the vermilion colour of the sunset peeking through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels. With that, a working day has finally come to an end. He puts all his materials down and observes his new secretary, or should he say ‘labourer’s, day’s work. His eyes widened with the arrangement of the newly decorated office space. The first thing he remarked is the careful and neat organisation of binders on the main wooden shelf on the back of the room. The imposing shelf was however framed by pot of ornamental ferns, and contrasting in front of such cordial interior are the cobalt blue, industrial chairs and sofa. Even the vibrant and geometric carpet easily complements the geometric frames around the room, reminiscent of a Mondrian.

“How is it, boss?”

Yuta looks at him in expectant eyes, silently gouging his minute, subtle change in mood or reaction. And for the first time on that Monday, Yuta saw his boss’ smile, his clear black eyes, his luscious, plump lips bitten by the incoming nightfall into a darker shade of scarlet. The young office worker never knew what happened during that moment, his eyes seemed to have turned into a magnifying glass, delicately examining the crystals within his superiors eyes, the ridges of his nose and that dry spot on the corner of his lips. The only thing he knew is that the dying red light seemed to perfectly encapture his fast beating heart.

“Hey! Why are you dumbly staring into my face?” exclaimed Sicheng. In that instance, Yuta was pulled back into reality by Sicheng’s quasi-annoyed voice.

“Uh.” A pause. “Nothing.” Yuta resigns his gaze onto the floor. Then, Sicheng proceeds to march out of the room, but before he can even close the door, Yuta swears on hi life that he heard his boss say _“I said it was beautiful.”_. And that left Yuta grinning into his own devices as the fluorescent lights of the building turns on. He can wholeheartedly say that he was satisfied.

On his way down towards the ground floor’s grand reception, he chances upon his only friend in this metal dungeon, Johnny Seo, the resident _casanova_.

“Hey! Long time no see, bro!” he cheekily raises his palms, waiting for a high-five. Yuta cheerfully reciprocates.

“I heard about what happened, I’m really sorry for your sudden demotion.” Johnny added. He expresses his sorry in his words and yet, he seems to not take the demotion seriously, he just patted his back hard bordering on physical assault. For Yuta, Johnny is like that cool, unemployed uncle that you had growing up, wearing Hawaiian shirts all the time and appears to be in an eternal retirement, even if he never had a formal job in his life. But in the contrary to his outside demeanour, Johnny is actually the top employee in the Marketing department. Sometimes, Yuta is just jealous of his easy-going and relaxed personality despite his evident lack of decorum.

“In all honesty, bro, you don’t look sad at all. if the chairman never said anything to me, I might even assume you had a promotion, grinnin’ like that.”

“That. It was nothing. I just got complimented on my job today. You know, that was a rare thing when I was in Chairman Kun’s office.”

“I’m so happy for you!” his colleague flashing his signature smile that makes all the employees, no exception boys and girls, swoon. And with that, Johnny goes on his merry way, skipping across the glass doors like a simpleton.

_“He really works well with Ten.”_  He pondered. He recently heard from the company rumour network that Johnny has found his ‘soul mate’ in the personification of the recently hired Thai marketing director, Ten. He has actually never seen the guy but Johnny has been in good mood ever since they were paired up on a recent project.

_“I hope this time is my lucky break.”_  He sighs in jealousy as he heads back to his rented apartment. And with that, Yuta’s relatively peaceful first day was over.


End file.
